


Ziwa Adrift

by kosmosxipo



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Blaseball Season 12, Gen, canada moist talkers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmosxipo/pseuds/kosmosxipo
Summary: The Flood swept Ziwa Mueller and York Silk elsewhere. What does that mean, and how will they get back?
Relationships: Ziwa Mueller/Eugenia Garbage
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8
Collections: Canada Moist Talkers Fanfiction





	Ziwa Adrift

_Heaven_

_Heaven is a place_

_A place where nothing_

_Nothing ever happens_

\-- "Heaven, Talking Heads"

###

Water is deceptive. You think you have a handle on water, which is what water wants you to think. A puddle is harmless, right? You've stepped in a puddle, and maybe you got your sock wet and dang, that’s annoying. This is how water gets you. As little as six inches of water can sweep a car off the road. So imagine what it can do to a person.

Ziwa Mueller didn't hear the flood coming, but they did feel it. The ground rumbled, the crowd in the stands screaming, scrambling to get higher up. Ziwa saw the panic first. They turned just in time to see the wall of water rising above her. It swallowed her whole, and through the water she heard Eugenia scream.

###

Somehow, play went on. The ball must be thrown. The players must play. That is Blaseball. Eugenia Garbage understood. The ILB wasn't the first Blaseball league she had ever seen, and likely wouldn't be the last. The shock still hurt.

Eugenia hadn't left the dugout since the game ended. Where would she go? How could she bring herself to leave? Instead, she paced the dugout, stepping in the puddles of what was left of the Flood.

"Eugenia?"

Garbage turned back. PolkaDot Patterson stood just outside the hall back to the lockers. Eugenia's eyes flickered over them for a moment. They had called her Eugenia, not Garbage.

"They're going to shut the lights off soon," Dot said.

"Sorry," Eugenia said. "I just..." There was nothing else.

Dot sat down on the bench, watching Eugenia carefully. "You want to talk about it?" They had hesitated before they said that, but they still said it, and that Dot was miles away from when they had first come to the team.

"I don't know what to say." Eugenia said. And then, "I'm so, so worried. I don't know where they are and I'm not used to feeling this way."

"Vulnerable," Dot said, giving the nod of someone who learned the hard way just how much was out of their control.

"They must be so scared."

"Aren't you?"

Eugenia looked out to the field. "I've been scared the moment I fell in love with them. But that's kind of part of it, isn't it?"

Dot nodded again. "It's part of everything."

###

Cold, salty water woke Ziwa. They sat up, meeting a gray sky. They sat on a rocky beach, looking out over a foggy sea. Their head spun, and they put a hand down on the beach to steady herself.

Where was this? Where were they?

They thought about the wall of water that swept through the Gleek Arena. They thought about being swept away, struggling to stay awake, trying to fight for anything to grab on to. They thought about how Eugenia's scream tore through them. They heard it as they dreamed, before they woke up. They couldn't stop hearing it.

Ziwa stood, not knowing what else to do. The beach wasn't terrible. They were still drying off, but they were always still drying off in Halifax.

Beyond the beach was a stand of trees, lush, green evergreens, enveloped in fog. A road cut through the forest, leading to a long pier and a dock. Distantly, a ship sounded a horn. Ziwa shielded their eyes, looking at the ship. When it came fully out of the fog, they let out a small laugh, and then sank to their knees, laughing until they couldn't see.

###

That night, when Eugenia got back to her appartment, a figure waited for her, just barely in the shadows.

"Greer?" Eugenia asked, leaning towards the figure just a little.

"Hey," Greer said.

"Who'd you get my address from?"

"Don't worry about it," Greer said. "Let me in, it's cold out here."

Eugenia unlocked the door, and Greer pushed past her into her apartment. She quickly found the kitchen and set down a greasy paper bag on the counter, and a six pack of beer next to it. And then she looked around.

Eugenia's apartment was spotless. Her furniture was elegant Mid-Century Modern, with clean lines. She had a big TV positioned in the perfect place in the apartment, and posters on the wall, some creased and wrinkled, a few with some barely noticeable water stains. And off against a wall, she had a shelf with a record player, and considerable collection of albums, worn with age and love. Her hardwood floors were clean and shiny.

"Hey, what the hell?" Greer said. "What is happening? Where's all the-"

"Garbage?" Eugenia asked, giving her the best smile she could.

Greer groaned. “God, shut up. Anyway," she set out tacos on the counter. "Eat."

"I'm not hungr-"

"You are," Greer said. "Half a sogdog you found in the stands doesn't count." She grabbed a taco and shoved it into Eugenia's hands. "Eat, dummy." She wandered over to Eugenia's records.

Eugenia took a plate out of her cupboard and plated a few tacos. Greer dropped a record on to the turntable and cranked up the volume, too loud to actually talk. Eugenia shook her head. She took a beer bottle and looked it over. Greer had brought the good beer this time, the beer she never shares with anyone.

Greer didn’t look at her, but Eugenia could feel her watching all the same.

###

York Silk started surfing when he was young, like a lot of kids in Hawaii. He woke up early to paddle out into the surf, he learned how to fall off a board gracefully, he venerated the names of Eddie and Duke. And had things played out differently in his life, he could have gotten really good at it. York Silk often dreamt of surfing.

York had watched Ziwa get swept away, and he promised himself that he’d be ready for the Flood. But things in the moment are different. The Flood happened like a shot in the dark, a wall of water knocking him off his feet. And he fell into darkness.

York dreamt of surfing, of falling off his board, of being swept away.

###

There were other people here too. Ziwa watched for other players, but didn’t see any, not that she could tell. Maybe they weren’t looking hard enough. Maybe they weren’t trying.

There was food, and drink. A man handed out meals at a little stand. Ziwa approached carefully, trying to see what he had.

“You’re not from around here,” the man said, nodding to Ziwa. This was only a statement of fact, nothing else. “We don’t get many fish people here.”

Ziwa hesitated, and then said, “I’m from Halifax?”

“Well, that explains it, eh?” He looked over Ziwa’s uniform. “You a baseball player?”

The word stuck in Ziwa’s head. It wasn’t a slip. “Yeah,” Ziwa said. “Baseball.”

“Lots of them around here lately.” He handed Ziwa a meal.

It was exactly what they wanted.

###

Ziwa was on the beach when York fell from the sky. They watched, one hand in their pocket, a cup of tea in their free hand. They had seen this a few times already, and so they only waited until York washed up on the beach. He was fine, they always were.

York sputtered, sitting up and looking around.

“Hey, Dork,” Ziwa said.

York’s eyes grew wide. He stood as quickly as he could and threw his arms around Ziwa. Ziwa hesitated, and hugged him back.

“We’re okay,” Ziwa said. “Everything is okay.”

And for the first time in a long time, they believed it.

When York finally stepped back, Ziwa said, “Come on, there’s tea up there.” They motioned back towards the trees.

York followed Ziwa. “Do they have Capri Sun?”

“Oh yeah, I bet they do.”

Ziwa and York sat down at a table. They sat outside in a common area between so low, inviting buildings. Someone instantly set down a Capri Sun in front of York, and fresh tea for Ziwa. York thanked them, but they were already gone.

York looked down at the Capri Sun sitting in front of him. "So, where are we?"

"Everyone around here calls it Elsewhere," Ziwa said, letting their eyes drift to the sky. "But, like, I'm 99 percent sure it's just British Columbia."

"We're in the UK??" York said.

"Buddy, we need to work on your Canadian geography."

"I'm kidding," York said, smiling a little. He carefully took a drink from his Capri Sun. ”Mostly. That's where Vancouver is?"

Ziwa nodded.

He looked around, at the trees and the sea and the people. ”Captain Mx. Mueller?"

Ziwa smiled. "York, you know you can call me Ziwa, it's fine."

York nodded, but his face said he was very unsure that he could call them that. ”Why are we on the other side of the country?"

Ziwa sat back in their chair. "Blaseball reasons, I think.”

York hunched forward, holding himself. "I hate Blaseball reasons."

"Yeah, Dork. Me too.”

###

There wasn’t much to do. That was fine, really. It was nice.

York had been wandering. Ziwa figured it was fine. He’s an adult, they reminded themself, a sweet, gentle adult, but he could handle himself. York came back, looking baffled.

“They say Blaseball weird here,” he said.

Ziwa leaned forward, dropping their voice down. "Okay, so here's the deal. I don’t think they have Blaseball here."

York looked at them, incredulous. “No?”

“They have baseball. It’s like Blaseball. The rules are mostly the same, but they don’t play under eclipses, they aren’t attacked by birds, or drenched in blood. They don’t get shelled.”

York sat back, his eyes tracing his thoughts, staring off at the evergreens. “They don’t get…”

“They just play. They just play and at the end of the day everyone goes home. York, I don’t think this is Sunken Canada.”

York said the only thing he could think to say, because everything else was just too much: ”That’s a weird name."

###

“Can I tell you something?” Ziwa asked York. They sat on the beach together. They didn’t know where else to go. York wasn’t sure if days had passed. They were never tired, they never wanted for anything. They did not fear.

“Yeah,” York said. He didn’t expect this, and he tried to play it cool.

“When we get back, and we will get back, you can’t tell anyone I said this, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I promise.”

Ziwas looked out over the water, deep into the fog. “I don’t… I don’t think I want to go back. Not after I’ve been here.”

York didn’t say anything. It felt right to let the beach keep their secret.

###

York had gone wandering again. He watched the massive ferries come in and out from the dock, and for a moment, it felt like he was home, watching cruise ships come and go. It felt weird to miss the cruise ships, but at this point, anything from home was welcome. When he found Ziwa again, they stood on the beach, their hands in their pockets.

“I’m going back,” they said when York approached. “I don’t have a choice. I know you feel it too.”

York did.

“I called a friend who I think can help make the trip back more painless. I figured we’re crossing dimensions and stuff, so we might as well go through the Underworld.” They looked over at him. “You want a ride?”

York started to speak, but faltered. Huh. He wasn’t going to say the answer he thought he was.

“We’ll get taken back eventually? Are you sure?” York asked.

“Yeah. 99 percent sure.”

York looked out over the water, out into the fog, then back to the evergreens, and the people who wandered around Elsewhere.

“Mx. Muell- uhm, Ziwa, if it’s okay, I’d like to stay as long as I can.”

Ziwa hugged York. “Then I’ll see you when you get back.”

###

The games went on. The ball must be thrown. The players must play. But that didn’t make it any easier for Eugenia. She started to hang around the arena after the game, just in case… well, she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe the arena was the key to all of this. Maybe she was just being silly.

She heard footsteps coming from the locker room, and ignored them. Dot was likely closing up and checking on her, as they did every night. And so, when the first trill came, she didn’t properly process it. She turned around, looking not into Dot’s squiddish eyes, but right at Richmond Harrison.

“Richmond!” Eugenia rushed to him, and Richmond grabbed her, holding her close, trilling happily.

“What are you doing here? You guys are going to make the playoffs.”

oOo They don’t need me oOo, Richmond said. oOo Besides, I brought you something. oOo He turned, still holding on to Eugenia, and marched back to the locker room.

Ziwa sat on a bench, changed into their street clothes. They stared at the floor, listless. Richmond set Eugenia down. She cried out, and ran to Ziwa, knocking her off the bench before Ziwa could stand.

Ziwa held her close, closing their eyes. “I’m okay! Hi!”

“I was so worried,” Eugenia said. “I was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

Ziwa squeezed her. “You didn’t need to worry.” And they felt the tears on their face. “I love you.”

Eugenia touched her forehead to Ziwas. “I love you too.”

When they both finally stood, they found Richmond had respectfully wandered to his old locker, and of course, to Hobb’s old locker.

“Did you see York? Is he okay?” Eugenia asked.

“York’s fine,” Ziwa said, giving Eugenia a reassuring smile. “He’s fine, and he’ll come back, like I did.”

“How? Can we send Richmond for him?”

Richmond heard his name and turned, smiling and waving at them.

“He’ll realize he has something to come back to,” Ziwa said. “Something that makes all of this worth it. And when he does, he'll be back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up to Ziwa being gone, swept away to Elsewhere, and instantly began writing things out in my head. This became vignettes as I discovered what the story was about. 
> 
> Shout out the Orb Corner and the Moist Talkers over there, of course. I can't remember who pointed out that Elsewhere's icon was evergreen trees, but that shifted my fic from St. Pierre to British Columbia it gave me whiplash. And of course, talking out ideas, fretting about Ziwa and then York together, and cheering when they came back. As always, I find you all inspiring and I'm honored I get to create with you all.
> 
> Also, Richmond's there because I love him and he should get to visit Ziwa and Eugenia any time he wants.


End file.
